


Fire

by wrioter



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrioter/pseuds/wrioter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I only found out that this ship existed this morning, but it's perfect and I immediately felt compelled to write something. Turned out a bit different to how I planned, and it's not in my usual style, but whatever; it's 2015. Apologies for typos / grammatical errors / nonsensical rabble.</p><p>“Oh, if you’re hot as the sun, be not afraid of the fire.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

You catch her off guard stood outside the door, her fist hovering in the air mid-knock. Her hair is pulled back loosely, red strands falling over her face. 

“Hey,” you murmur, clearing your throat. You take in the frown creasing her brow and the clench in her jaw.

“Oh, hey,” she replies. She seems to reconsider her position, and lets her hand fall to her side, spinning on her heels to face you. “It’s Betty... Elizabeth, right?” she asks, a soft smile playing about her lips.

“Yeah,” you grin back, surprised that she remembered that you preferred to be called by your full name. You both look at each other for a moment, the silence a deafening pound in your ears, and she reaches up an arm to scratch the back of her head nervously. The muscles tense in her bicep as she does so, and you let your gaze linger for a second. She notices you, and the tips of her ears go red.

“Can I, um...” you gesture to the door with a tilt of the head, and she bites her lip.

“Yeah, sorry, of course. Go ahead,” she says, stepping aside to let you into the dorm. You open the door slightly, and then turn back to see her still stood there, looking down and scuffing the toe of her shoe on a raised floorboard.

“Did you need anything, Danny?” you ask, allowing a tone of warmth to creep into your voice. She looks so soft, stood with her shoulders hunched, the bare skin of her arms cast in the pale light seeping in from the window. She looks up and shakes her head slowly.

“No, I’m good,” she replies.

“Okay... see you later?” 

“Sure.”

She waves a little and turns to walk down the hall. You watch her go, and then close the door gently.

***

You were sick yesterday. As fate would have it, your paper deadline was also yesterday. You sigh at the drab collection of buildings looming over you, stood soldierly like shadows in the dark. The tail-end of the bleak Austrian winter was seemingly seeping into everything, making your bones grow cold and your heart ache. You blow your nose and hurry to the English building, wary of the thin sheet of ice underfoot. 

You hurry up the steps to her office, your breath clouding in the December air. It’s cold and you rub your hands together, pausing to catch your breath as you reach the top.

The door’s open and warm orange light spills into the chill of the corridor. She’s leant over her desk with a pair of black-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, face contorted harshly in concentration as she stares down at the sheet in front of her. A small stack of papers lay on the table beside her and you feel a small pang of guilt as you rap your knuckles on the door, dissipating the hushed stillness. She starts slightly, tensing her shoulders and snapping her head upwards to face you. Her face softens in recognition.

“Hey,” she smiles.

“Hey,” you smile back.

She stands and pulls out a chair for you. She shuts the door, and you realise that it’s warmer in here than in the rest of the building.

“Sorry for disturbing you,” you murmur.

“It’s okay,” she sits back down and takes off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms, “feels like I’ve been at it for hours.”

You nod sympathetically. Your work load hasn’t exactly been small since you got rescued from the mysterious supernatural light force. There were a lot of classes you missed, and even more that you failed.

“Sorry... um, I was sick yesterday, so I’ve brought my paper,” you say, reaching for your bag. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, blue eyes brimming over with concern. You laugh and nod, handing over your paper.

“I am now. Sorry it’s late.”

“Stop apologising,” she says, waving her hand dismissively and adding your paper to the top of the pile. You sit quietly as she glances back down at her work.

“Listen, I’ve nearly finished this. So, why don’t we go for a coffee after...?” she questions, leaning slightly closer. 

You nod and grin as she adds, “to talk about how you’re going to boost up your grades this term, of course,” with a flick of her wrist. She nods back and picks up her pen fervently, and you watch her as she slides her glasses back on and pushes her hair out of her eyes.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” you say after a moment and she raises an eyebrow, looking up from her work.

“Yeah, I wear contacts for class,” she replies, steady gaze coming to rest on your face. 

“You should wear them more often,” you gesture to her glasses, adding shyly, “you look good.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, giving you a slanted smile. You feel your face heating up and stare at a blank spot on the wall.

She laughs and shuffles her papers together, grimacing at the slide of her chair legs against the wooden floorboards.

“Come on,” she says, wrapping a scarf around her neck and pulling on a thick brown coat. You rise, shouldering your bag, and she holds open the door for you.

Outside, she offers you an arm. You slip your hand through.

That night, you go to sleep with the sound of her voice still buzzing in your ears, and the backdrop imprint of warm orange light behind your eyes.

***

You witness the changing of the season with grateful anticipation. The austerity of Silas in the winter felt heavy and weighed down your spirits. In early spring, it was almost pleasant. You walk through campus after class, the air warm and the sun painted softly on the horizon.

You’re not paying attention to where you’re going, and you crash into someone, causing you to fall sideways drop your folders over the grass.

“Watch what you-” a voice pants, then halts mid-sentence.

You look up and see that it’s Danny, tight grey tank top patched with sweat and sticking to her skin, headphones hung around her neck. She’s out running. You clear your throat.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry,” you reply quickly, turning away and gathering up your things to shield the red flooding into your cheeks.

She bends down to help you and you reach take the folders from her outstretched arm. She’s crouched and you’re sat down, and you’re both at the same height, and when did your faces get so close? 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she breathes and puts a hand on your shoulder, gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, then back again.

Then she stands suddenly and throws out an arm to help you up. You take it, thanking her quietly. She coughs momentarily and casts her eyes to the floor.

“Hey, is this yours?” she inquires, plucking a phone from the grass. 

“Yeah, it must’ve fallen out of my pocket,” you reply, patting down your jacket.

She nods. You frown slightly as she unlocks it and begins to type something, waiting in the half-light until she hands you it back with a grin.

“See you in class,” she says, clamping her headphones back over her head and turning to jog away. You yell a goodbye to her retreating figure and she spins to give you a thumbs up.

You stand there, dumbfounded, staring at her dark silhouette set against the pink sky. When she turns the corner, you check your phone, and it opens up onto your contact list. Underneath Dad is Danny L, followed by a smiley emoticon. 

You find your dorm room empty when you get back, so you sit on the edge of your bed for a second, listening to the silence and swinging your feet nervously. You shake your head and reach for your phone, pressing down on the call button.

“Hey,” Danny says.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling wide.

***

You’re purposefully taking your time to collect up your things and drop them in your bag. She takes the bait and walks over, casting a long shadow over your desk.

“Need any help there?” she questions, knowingly. She’s wearing her glasses today.

You laugh at her crossed arms and mock-annoyed expression, swinging your legs off your chair and standing. She’s only a few inches taller than you and you can feel her breath on your nose.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, your chest heavy and warm. She bites her lip and your head goes fuzzy. You’ve just made your mind up to lean in closer when she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, are you busy tonight?” she whispers. 

You shake your head.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You almost collapse when you exit the room.

***

It’s six p.m and you burst through the door noisily, startling Laura who’s hunched at her desk typing on her keyboard with ferocious intensity. She spins on her chair and shoots you a questioning glance.

“You okay?”

You shut the door and stride over to drop your bag at the edge of the bed.

“I’m going out tonight and I have no idea what to wear. Help.”

Laura grins and tilts her head to one side. You roll your eyes at her and dash over to your wardrobe, rifling through your clothes quickly.

“Anyone I know?” she inquires, absentmindedly.

“Danny,” you reply over your shoulder.

Laura murmurs in surprise and you turn to face her.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just haven’t spoken to her properly in a while,” she says, hand gesturing emphatically. You nod and turn back to the wardrobe, hearing her come to stand beside you.

“What time is she coming?” 

“Seven,” you say.

“We’d better get moving then,” Laura grins, holding up a dress against you.

***

Danny knocks at the door while you’re finishing your makeup in the bathroom. You hear her and Laura chatting casually, their voices muffled through the wall. You close your eyes and take a small breath before walking into the room.

She’s stood near the window in a blue shirt rolled up to the elbows, dark skinny jeans, and black shoes. Her hair is slightly wavy and falls over her shoulders with resplendent ease, her hands awkwardly tucked into her pockets as she nods at Laura tentatively. Carmilla stares at you through dark eyes from her position on the bed, but thankfully, remains quiet. 

“Hey Danny,”

“Hey,” she replies, giving you a flashing smile.  
Laura eagerly ushers Danny out of the doorway and winks at you as you follow suit. You shut the door behind you and she’s stood in the corridor, biting her lip nervously. 

“You look really pretty,” she says. You adjust your dress self consciously. It’s strange to see her so be so unsure.

“So do you,” you reply, and she seems to shrug off her nerves.

“Come on,” she breathes, offering you her hand. You take it and she squeezes, letting out a laugh. 

***  
After dinner she drives you up into the mountains, and you pull into the side. You both sit quietly for a moment until she opens her door, running around the front of the car to open yours. You thank her and she bows jokingly.

It’s cold. Your arms are dotted with goosebumps and you shiver involuntarily. She notices and apologises, reaching into the car for her jacket. You pull it on and she grins. 

You’re sat on the hood and she’s leaning against it on her elbows, head tilted up at the sky. You stare at her side-profile, drinking in the sharpness of her jaw and tightness of her lips, finding yourself longing to see the way that she talks with her eyes and gazes at you like you’re the only thing worth noticing. A restless wind plays about her hair, sending fiery tendrils dancing across her skin.

“‘So, now I shall talk every night, ’” she murmurs softly into the sky, “‘to myself... to the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon...’” she trails off, turning to look at you.  
You sit with your legs drawn into your chest, folded up like a puzzle. 

“Say more,” you whisper, enthralled. 

She fumbles with her shirt sleeve.

“I don’t really remember any more,” She replies, looking up at you through her hair. “You make me forget things.”

Your face reddens and you feel your heart rate double. She slides off the hood and stands up straight, pulling you into her. She smells like sandalwood and night air as you wrap your arms around her neck tentatively, pressing your body into her. She puts her hands on your hips and the ghost of a smile plays about her mouth.

You can’t take it anymore, so you lean in and kiss her, hard.

She hums softly and the world evaporates.

***

Quiet pools of July light lay across her bare skin. She’s swathed in summer and it catches about her hair, erupting over the pillow in a fierce red bonfire. You trace idle circles over her back with butterfly fingers, dancing across her shoulders to touch wherever the light seems to emanate from her body. Her breath is steady and you feel the swell of her lungs against your flat palm.

“Danny,” you whisper.

She turns over to face you, eyes still closed.

“What?” she grumbles.

She opens one eye.

You stare at her.

“I think we fit together.”

The light makes her skin look like it’s washed in a faint orange hue, casting heat off her cheeks and shadows under brow. You reach out a hand and touch her. She shuffles closer.

Her mouth burns into yours easily and you run your tongue over her bottom lip. She leans over you, moving her mouth down your neck, biting down gently.

You sigh as a stray hand grazes your bare hip and you reach to pull her in closer.

“So do I,” she murmurs into your ear.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit that Danny quotes is from Sylvia Plath, and the title is taken from the song Fire by Laura Gibson.


End file.
